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I'm a writer, living in Bristol in the UK. I've had a handful of short stories published but I'm still working on that Holy Grail for fiction writers- securing a literary agent. So, if you're an agent or have an Auntie, Uncle, second cousin, best friend who is one...

One problem with sharing a house with Shint was his total inability to remember the right name for anything from saucepans to umbrellas to college tutors. It led to some lengthy and frustrating conversations. Though when she was in the right mood — usually after a pint of two in the student union bar and definitely NOT while cramming for her finals — his lapses could be entertaining.

She squinted across the patchy grass, trying to second guess what he was talking about. ‘Woodlice?’

He shook his head.

‘Tin cans? Crisp packets? Smelly trainers?’

No to each one.

‘Shovels?’ She was running out of ideas. ‘Fences, butterflies —’

‘Ah!’ Shint’s head jerked off the ground, limbs shuddering.

‘Butterflies?’

‘Not butterflies. This flits and flaps like that but it has stained glass wings and wears fighter pilot goggles and floppets over water.’

Seriously? She was expected to revise the Heisenberg picture and Clebsch-Gordon coefficients whilst listening to the ranting of a barely coherent Neanderthal — A dart of yellow and black flashed past. A dart with glassy wings and with what looked like old fashioned flying goggles fixed to its head.

‘A dragonfly,’ she sighed.

‘Yes!’ Slint was up, jogging from foot to foot, waving his magazine in the air like a trapper struggling with a large paper bird.

Ha! Thanks Joy. Yes, some housemates are truly a trial. It’s kind of inspired by a frined of ours – although he’s a lot more articulate than this guy, our friend is eccentric, a little random, can’t keep still. Lovely, but I wouldn’t want to live with him! Thanks for reading

“Stained glass wings and fighter pilot goggles” — perfect description! As are the alternative names.
We’ve all known characters like this, and they do make the world a more colourful place with their stained-glass expressions. Great. I can picture these two, and sense the underlying melancholy that comes with the end of an era.

I remember it very clearly – leaving Hull when my husband finished his degree, that feeling of losing all you’d bult up over the previous 3 years, that sense of rootlessness. A tricky time. Thanks so much Chris – really glad you liked it

To be fair, I wouldn’t want to live with lots of people I know and like – it’s a tricky chemistry, living with people! To be fair, I wouldn’t want to live with lots of people I know and like – it’s a tricky chemistry, living with people!